


Expanding My Skill Set

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Post War, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-16
Updated: 2007-09-16
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:34:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Hermione and Padma take a business trip abroad, and both are over-achievers.





	Expanding My Skill Set

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

“Look at this suite!” Padma exclaims, literally twirling into the room we’ll be sharing for the Healers’ conference in Budapest. 

It’s nice to see her act a bit girlish for change; she’s so serious at work. Although, I can’t exactly say that I’m not. We’re both a bit… _intense_ about work, it’s true, and I thank my lucky stars that we were partnered together after training. If I had to compensate for someone else's inadequacies, I'd go mad. But she’s as tenacious as I am. 

Three years we’ve been in our Department and this is the first time the hospital has been able to budget to send us to this conference of over 1,000 European Healers. Not that they had any choice but to come up with the funding: we were asked to present a paper on our research of Ashwinder eggs. The youngest Healers to ever present! We’ve been preparing for weeks. 

“It is beautiful,” I say, smiling at her. I walk over to open the drapes at the window and to my surprise discover a whole balcony overlooking the river. “Oh, _my_!” She rushes up behind me and we step outside together. 

"Too bad we're only here for three days," she says, a bit breathlessly. "I'll be sorry to leave." 

"Me, too," I say, giving her hand a little squeeze. With a heavy sigh, I say, "At any rate, I suppose we should unpack and review one more time for tomorrow?" 

"Absolutely," she says. "One more time _at least_." Like I said, we're rather alike.   

~o~ 

Needless to say, next day the presentation is a smashing success. We both pretend to be humbled and surprised and flattered at the reception and the praise, but neither of us is. No one knows this material better than us, and we were incredibly well prepared. 

To celebrate, we dress to the nines and go for a very posh dinner at small restaurant downtown, where we find ourselves giggling like schoolgirls about the fit German Healer attending the conference who lingered to ask us a million questions as an obvious excuse to chat us up. She says he was interested in me; I insist it was her he was after. Not that it mattered, because we didn't either of us pursue him. 

After finishing off our bottle of wine and stopping for another drink at the hotel bar, we stumble up to our room more than a little tipsy but in general feeling pretty good about ourselves. Pausing only to kick off her shoes, Padma opens up the door to the balcony and strides outside to admire the sweeping view of the city and the Danube at night. 

I follow her out. It's warm, and there is a gentle breeze against us.  

“Wow,” is all I can muster through my exhaustion. “It really is spectacular, isn’t it?” 

She nods, smiling. “Congratulations again, Hermione. We make a great team.” 

I open my arms to welcome her celebratory hug. Her skin is warm, and I can smell the hotel soap on her bare shoulder. “Two peas in a pod, we are.” 

She holds on to me for a beat longer than usual for a friendly embrace. Perhaps she's upset, or worried about something. "Padma?" I say, pulling back to look at her. 

She looks anxious, but not upset. I note the way she chews her lip apprehensively and furrows her brow. She has something to tell me; I wait for it. 

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this out loud,” she begins quietly, looking flustered, “...and I hope it doesn’t ruin everything between us..."

My mind races, trying to imagine what would ruin--

She meets my eyes and says suddenly, "I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, Hermione.” 

_Not_ was I was expecting to hear. My eyes must be wide as saucers. “ _Kiss_ me?” Surely I can’t have heard her correctly. 

But then, I must have, because despite the fact that I've turned back to look at the river, I can feel her leaning in toward me, so close I can feel her breath on the side of my face. 

I don’t stop her. _Why am I not stopping her?_ I wonder, frozen where I stand. 

It happens quickly, which is odd, because it seems she’s moving at a snail’s pace, but all of a sudden I feel it. She kisses a spot that's beneath my ear, behind my jaw. 

Lips still against my skin, she whispers, “It might just be the night and this place and being so far from home, and that’s fine, too. If you want we can never speak of it again. It could just be this one time.” Still I make no move to object, thinking vaguely that my inaction is due to shock. But to my surprise, I feel a rush of heat in my body in reaction to her bold words, at what she’s suggesting. 

I feel the very tip of her tongue trace a trail along my jaw, close my eyes to the sensation of her teeth gently nipping my flushed skin, and then before I know what’s happening, I’m turning my head and meeting her warm lips. 

At first, it’s just strange. She’s so soft, and she smells so ... _different_ than what I'm used to. Floral, or no, just sweet. But the way her long fingers are tentatively stroking my upper arm makes me reluctant to break away. This is someone I trust, after all. There is only curiosity, no fear. 

And my body seems to feel _more_ for her than trust. And there is quite a _lot_ of curiosity, at that.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, "I've never--"  

"Neither have I..." she says, giggling again in a way that doesn't seem nearly as girlish as it did earlier in the evening. "I mean, I've never wanted a woman before you. I just...well, there's _something_ , isn't there? Please say it's not just me?" 

There's no use denying it. I’m sure I’m flushed and probably shaking, so she must see it.  “No, I…it’s not just you.” 

Padma interprets this as encouragement or maybe permission, which isn’t how I meant it but it doesn’t really matter since I’m incredibly relieved when she brings her mouth back to mine. She kisses me properly this time, one soft hand on my jaw and the other on my hip. 

My knees rather buckle at the rush I feel when her tongue slide against mine and she makes the most amazing little moan into my mouth. 

When she stops – when _we_ stop - I’m mortified to see how tightly I’d been clinging to her. As in _finger-marks-on-her-arms_ kind of tight. 

I try to cover my embarrassment by being practical, objective. “We shouldn't get carried away, should we? Certainly just experimenting this much is confusing and new, and we should process it and--" 

"Right," she agrees quickly. "We won't get carried away. It's just curiosity,” she says with a smirk. It is at this precise moment that I know she’s seducing me. She knows what’s going to happen, and so do I, and we both know that we both want it, and we’re doing that dance of will we or won’t we, but we’re already there. 

This, more than anything, causes me to change gears. If this is certain to happen, I want to be a prime mover in where it goes. I give her one last look, noting the way her chest heaves, the way her hair is a bit tousled, the way she’s waiting for me to decide. 

And I decide. 

I reach up to either side of her face and pull her mouth to mine. It’s a bit rough, and there is some clanking of teeth, but soon we settle into a rhythm, and before long our bodies are pressed together rather desperately. 

Who knew two sets of breasts rubbing against each other would feel so bloody good? Sliding my hand to the front of her dress causes her to whimper a bit, and without even thinking I fumble around her back searching for the zipper of the garment, and ease it down.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I should have asked. Is this okay?” 

By way of an answer, she slips the straps of her dress down over her shoulders and lets it falls to the floor, leaving her standing in front of me in nothing but the tiniest knickers I've ever seen. 

She’s beautiful. Her breasts are different from mine – much bigger, and rounder, and tipped with dark round nipples that are on the large side and unbelievably erotic. My breath catches in my throat.

“I didn't wear a bra,” she says unnecessarily. I don't say anything, because I'm mesmerized by the way her nipples harden in the cool night air. Or maybe under my gaze? Without realizing what I'm doing, I reach out and touch one, just with the tips of two fingers. Have to know what it feels like. 

“Oh, _god_ ,” she moans, placing one hand on the railing. "I can't believe this is happening." 

Things just sort of fall into place then, as if they'd been planned. I bend down replace my fingers with my lips, desperate to know what it will feel like in my mouth, what it will make her do. Armed with no experience except the knowledge of what I like, I nibble and suck, and take her nipple gently between my teeth and flick my tongue against it. 

Her reaction is immediate, and intense. She says my name over and over, and threads her hands into my hair, and by the time I turn my attention on her other breast I notice that she’s got one hand in her knickers. 

I groan when I see it. I’m so unbelievably turned on by turning her on, and the newness of all of it. Then suddenly Padma’s back in charge - pulling my top over my head, ridding me of my bra, and tugging at my skirt, until I’m no more clothed than she is. 

“You’re stunning, Hermione,” she says, leaning forward to kiss my collarbone. I resist the primal urge to grab her head and pull her mouth down to my breast. And I’m so glad I do, because it’s _much_ better when I arch slightly and offer myself up to her and she does it on her own, latching onto a nipple and sucking tentatively.

I grasp the railing fiercely as she takes her time exploring the way I did minutes ago. Looking down at her, watching her tongue dart in and out of her mouth and all over my skin, seeing her fingers come up now and again to pinch or pull or tug at a nipple, it all just floors me, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to remain on my feet out here on the balcony. 

Which reminds me…we’re outside. In public, more or less, the whole city before us. For some reason, this doesn’t alarm me. Just makes me chuckle, causing her to look up. “Anyone is Budapest with a pair of binoculars is certainly getting an eyeful,” I explain. 

She laughs with me. “Good for them,” she flirts in a very, very naughty way. “Let’s give them a show, shall we?” she says, dropping to her knees and tugging down my knickers, keeping her eyes on mine the whole time. 

Oh, god. She’s going to… 

“Padma!” 

“Please, Hermione, let me?” she pleads. “I'm dying to know, and it's you, and I really want to. Do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” I say. What else _can_ I say? I'd be lying to both of us if I said I didn't want it, couldn’t already imagine it.

She slides my knickers down to my ankles and I step out of them, feeling exposed and open, and so turned on I could die from it. She pushes me back against the railing and with a grin says, "Just don't fall over." 

And then she slides her hand up my thigh, and further, until it reaches its destination. I’d be embarrassed at how wet I am if I weren’t seeing stars at the sensation of her thumb spreading me open. 

“Mmmm…” is all I can manage. 

She uses both hands, and what feels like lots of fingers, parting my lips so that she can cautiously touch her tongue between them. I hold my breath until I feel the contact, and then let it out in the rush of heat and desire and pleasure. She looks up at me from her knees, her dark lashes obscuring her eyes, and slides one hand up the back of my thigh to grab my arse. Absently, I raise my leg to rest on a nearby chair to give her better access. 

Somewhere in my head I wonder whether I should be doing anything, saying something, but when I feel the tip of her tongue slide up and up and come into contact with my clit, the notion is lost to more pressing concerns. Like how to keep from collapsing or screaming. 

Keeping one hand on the railing for just this purpose, I let my other find its way into her silky hair, threading my fingers through it, loving the way a long curtain of it falls forward against my knee. 

Hearing my moan seems to spur her on, because she’s more forceful now, pulling me forward against her mouth to offer more resistance. As with everything she does, she's confident and full of purpose. It's not surprising. Her fingers are tickling my bum, circling, teasing until finally she lets one thin finger slip in between my cheeks until it’s just _there_. And then she continues to explore the area, massaging, while she laps and nibbles at my clit. 

As her fingertips explore and her tongue begins to move faster and harder over my clit, a burning heat starts to creep up my neck and face. And when my thighs began to tremble, I realize that within a few seconds I’m going to... 

“Please! Padma,” I gasp, “please, let me…I want…” I scramble out of her grasp to catch my breath and try to regain my balance, but finally end up just falling to my knees beside her. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, both hands in the air as if she’s been caught stealing. I can’t help but laugh at the image. 

“No,” I explain, putting my hands on her arms, “it’s just that I was about to, you know.” 

“That’s sort of the idea, isn’t it?” 

“Well, yes, I suppose, but not yet. It’s just… let’s go inside.” 

I wonder whether it was a mistake, to stop it. Whether it will be awkward now, if the door will have closed on whatever we were doing. But I don’t have to wonder long, because the second we’re inside the room, her lips are on mine again, just as passionately as before. And I give it right back, cupping her jaw to pull her into me, but also reaching down to touch her breast again. I’ve decided I really like her breasts, in fact. I like the way they feel under my fingers - soft silk contrasted with pebbled nipple - and I love the sort of frantic reaction I get from her when I pinch or twist them just so. 

I slowly push her toward the bed and climb on top of her so that I have easier access to them, kissing, licking, sucking until she’s whimpering again. 

I _love_ the way she’s moaning my name, am addicted to the way she’s coming all unglued under my hands and mouth. She tries to touch me, but can't seem to concentrate enough to do so at the moment. I’ve never seen Padma lose control, in this way or any other, and it’s amazing. She’s still wearing her little purple knickers, which I remedy right away so that I can touch her more. By now, there’s no more hesitating. Just straightforwardness and trying everything to see what works. 

Everything works. 

She’s soaking wet and I marvel at the feel of my fingers feel against her, inside her. My impulse is to put my mouth on her, but when I lower my head she stills me. “Please, Hermione," she gasps, a little desperately at that, "If you just keep licking my tits while you do that, I'm going to come.” 

I feel a melting heat spread through me at her candid words, but I maintain my pace as best I can to do things properly. Tracing the areola of Padma's right breast with my tongue, and softly circling her sensitive nipple, I notice her fingers gently pinching and caressing her other breast. As slowly as I can manage, I slide my hand back down to the delicate skin of her belly, and softly cup the hot, wet, center of her, making her arch off the bed to push her hips against my hand, and her breast more firmly into my mouth. She's impatient now, and I aim to draw things out, sucking her nipple firmly and sliding my fingers smoothly into the warm heat of her. 

"...yes..yes...just _there_..." she's murmuring incoherently, and only when she is writhing and moaning do I pick up the pace enough to bring her all the way there, sliding my fingers against her clit and in and out. She murmurs broken pleads for me to bite and suck her breasts more roughly, and so I do, which is what finally sends her over the edge, trembling and gasping uncontrollably, in a very un-Padma-like manner.  

I can't help it; the perfectionist in me swells with pride at the accomplishment, and I flash her a wide smile as she shivers beneath me. But there's no time to reflect on it. Padma barely catches her breath before she's scrambling to sit up, kneeling with me. I can see the smile on her face just as she leans forward to kiss me fiercely, deeply, with one hand on my cheek and shoving the other between my legs. Not expecting it, I gasp, then moan at the sweet friction, and lose my balance a bit. 

But she catches me, an arm around my waist, supporting my weight and pulling me closer to her. The contact of our bellies and breasts is thrilling, and I savor the warm taste of her tongue. She ghosts her fingers across my aching clit and, were her mouth not occupying mine so completely, I'd _beg_ for more pressure. 

No sooner do I think this before she breaks our kiss, looks directly into my eyes and says, "I'm going to make you come _so_ hard, Hermione." 

"Yes, _please_ , Padma," I moan. 

She complies, dipping her head to cover my nipple with her beautiful full lips and finally-- _finally --_ starts rubbing harder and faster and slipping her long fingers into me and sliding the pad of her thumb tight against my clit until I start to feel myself falling. Plunging into the feel, sound and smell of her as I come apart in an intense and silent way that I never have before.

I'm not aware that I really _am_ falling until she lowers me to the bed and keeps licking and touching as I land softly in a daze of trembling and shuddering. 

After a moment, I open my eyes and look up into her wide, dark ones. She looks suddenly worried, or regretful, or _something_ , and I hope against hope that she doesn't apologize, or say it was a mistake. 

My breath is still uneven, and I can't think what to say. I swallow audibly. "You alright?" I finally ask. And she smiles tentatively, and nods. 

"You?" 

"Yes. Will you stay here, in this bed tonight?" Don't know why I asked it, but I'm glad I did.

She laughs at this for some reason, and her hair falls forward across her face in that way that becomes her. She's really amazing to look at. 

She answers my question by leaning in and kissing me gently on the lips. And then she smiles, and I feel her bring the blanket haphazardly over us and settle in next to me. In a way that's perfect: not too close but near enough that I can feel her presence there.

I close my eyes and savor the sweet touch of Padma's lips against my shoulder and her warm hand on my hip. Exhaustion pulls at me, but as I'm drifting off to sleep I catalog everything. The breeze wafting in, the fragrance of the sheets, the distant sounds of the city. Something in me wants to remember every bit. To be able to say that _this_ is the way that it happened the first time it happened. 

 

 


End file.
